


Say Goodbye

by shahdroe



Category: Hamilton - Fandom, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Beating, Blood and Torture, But He Gets Better, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Death, Depression, Domestic Violence, Eating Disorders, Eliza is the best, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Gay John Laurens, Gen, George is amazing, Hamria is brotp, Heavy Angst, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, Homophobia, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, Hurt, Hurt Alexander Hamilton, Hurt/Comfort, I don’t know anything about America since I’m British, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jealousy, John will beat the shit out of you, Listen up, M/M, Maria Reynolds is Maria Lewis, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Minor Maria Reynolds/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Multi, Murder, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Other, Pain, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Pining, Poor Alexander Hamilton, Psychological Torture, Sadness, Self Harm, Slow Burn, Someone make Alex sleep, Sort Of, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, The Author Regrets Everything, Torture, Violence, Washington is straight, Whipping, aaron is a sweetheart, alex has adhd, depressed alexander hamilton, idc what you all think, no one is straight, so is angelica, thats a lie, to clarify it’s the British George
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shahdroe/pseuds/shahdroe
Summary: "You know the drill, everyone!" He continued. "If you see your name on the big screen, a helicopter will come to escort you. Take hold of the ladder and step inside without a fight." He almost scoffed at his words. He was making it sound like they were going to be chosen for a grand holiday, not going to meet their deaths.The choosing had been happening as long as anyone could remember. Every year, the people of the USA would meet in one place, and ten people would be chosen at random to be sacrificed to their leader.6 months, they’d spend with him, before he killed each and every one of them slowly. He took pleasure out of seeing them suffer. He enjoyed tearing through their flesh and hearing them cry.10 people each year were chosen.They each wanted to escape.It was either that, or you could say goodbye.Forever.





	1. Chapter 1: Alex

"You listen to me!" The man yelled, his hands balled into a fist and shaking furiously. "I took you in! Where would you be now if I had refused to look after you? Where?" His fist connected with Alex's jaw, and pain shot up his face. He blinked back tears. That was going to leave a bruise. A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and pushed him to the floor. Black spots filled his vision as his head connected with the solid ground, a numb ache filling his body. He should be used to this already. His foster father had always been abusive, staying out late, drinking, beating him if he refused to do anything. This time he was sober, and angry.

Alex felt a foot connect to his side and he let out a cry.  
"Shut up, you little brat!" The man screamed, kicking him a few more times. "I provide you with food and water, and you repay my kindness asking for a day off?" He growled, and hauled Alex up by his hair. "You disgust me." He spat in his face, before letting him fall into the ground and walking away. Alex heard a door bang shut, and a key turning. Great. He locked the door again.

He allowed himself a few more seconds on the ground, before heaving himself up slowly, wincing as he arched his back. He staggered up and stumbled on his feet, holding onto the edge of the table for balance. What did the man do to him this time? He walked to the mirror across the hallway and removed his t-shirt slowly . He eyed the bruises unhinged across his side, then glanced at his face. There was blood around his cheek. He sighed slowly, knowing he had to get himself cleaned up before his foster father came.

He hadn't really done anything wrong. But it was the Choosing Day, and he didn't want to spend the day cleaning and cooking, knowing he, or any other innocent soul, could be taken later on.

He walked to the freezer and took out a frozen pea packet. Pressing it against his side, he ran his hand under the tap and started washing the blood off his face. That would make it easier to heal.  
When all the blood was off, he removed the packet from his side and pressed it to his face, letting out a hiss when the cold connected with the bruise. God, he couldn't wait to turn 18 and get out of this hell hole forever.

He had it all planned out. He would pack everything up the day before his 18th birthday. When the sun came up, he would leave and no one could stop him. He'd find a job somewhere and gain enough for a cheap room in a motel. Until then, he'd be fine with sleeping in the streets. Once he had a place to stay, he would work on getting a scholarship to a good college. Preferable King's, or Princeton.  Even though his foster father had him drop out of high school, he knew it couldn't be that hard. He was smart. He could do it.

Unfortunately, he'd have to wait almost a year before he could leave. A year of chores , bruises and sleepless nights. Great.

After getting himself cleaned up, he walked to the closet room and took out a broom, because a hoover was just too expensive. He swept around the entirety of the small apartment, then set out to polishing the little bits.

He'd finished making dinner when he heard the door unlock. His foster father stumbled in, smelling of alcohol. Trust him to get drunk on Choosing Day.  
He kept his eyes on the boiling pot in front of him, the smell of stew overpowering the stink of the drink. He could hear his foster father stumbling and muttering to himself. Sighing quietly, he stirred the pot and glanced at the clock, wincing when he realized they had to leave in a half hour. He set down the spoon and turned round.

"The food is ready!" He called hoarsely. There was a sound of a crash.  
"Shut yo mouth, I can smell it's rank from here!" He yelled, slurring a little on the s. Alex just rolled his eyes and started setting out the plates. He would have to take his food to his room, because his foster father 'can't stand to see something so horrible whilst eating'.

He  poured the majority of the stew in the other man's bowl. After giving himself a little, he scraped the rest into his foster father's bowl. He picked his plate up and crept to his room, hoping not to collide with the man. Luckily, he seemed to be yelling at some poor soul on the phone, so he made it safely to his 'happy place'.

He ate quickly, finishing his food in only a few minutes. He didn't have much appetite anyway. He walked quickly to the kitchen and dumped his bowl in the sink, squeezing washing up liquid on it. He opened the tap and started washing the bowl, before someone came and stood near him.

Alex glanced at his foster father and motioned to the living room table . "Your food's over there," he whispered quietly, and was met by a slap . He tried not to whimper as his hand connected with his already injured cheek. What had he done this time?

"You idiot! We have to leave now!" He turned his gaze to the clock, and realized that the man was right. They would be late, and he would get punished for it. He dropped the bowl and wiped his hand in his trousers, following his foster father as he ran out of his house, leaving it unlocked. They had to do that anyway. The guards would open each door and make sure no one was in. If anyone hadn't left the house, they would all be killed.

It took a few minutes to reach New York's square. It was crowded. Of course it was. The whole of America was gathered. People were squished against each other and there was barely any room to breath.

He winced as his foster father dragged him by the arm, his breath hot on his neck when they stood somewhere. Someone stepped onto his foot, and he tried not to help as the sharp heel of the shoe pressed against his toe. Ouch.

Whispering was everywhere, until a helicopter flew into view. Someone was holding into a ladder hanging on from it. A microphone was in their hand. It was the same person every year.

"Are you ready, ladies and gentlemen, for the choosing!" He bellowed . Strangled cheers erupted from below, sounding as fake as ever. He foster father elbowed him in the ribs.

"Say something!" He hissed. Alex let out a forced 'whoop' . The person was obviously satisfied by the reaction and continued with his job.

"You know the drill, everyone!" He continued. "If you see your name on the big screen, a helicopter will come to escort you. Take hold of the ladder and step inside without a fight." He almost scoffed at his words. He was making it sound like they were going to be chosen for a grand holiday, not a terrible killing.

"Any enquirers before we begin?"  
A silence followed his words that was painful to hear. Everyone knew the way it worked all to well.

"That's great!" The man was practically beaming. "Without further or so, let's start!" A flash of white came from the screen on the tallest building there. A short video started.

A small , cartoon man was dancing on screen, singing about meat. It was sickening. It ended with him comically swallowing another human whole. Alex felt like he was going to vomit.

Then a drumroll started .

"The first name is-" A large word appeared. "Maria Reynolds."

He heard a cry of disbelief, and saw a young man holding onto a girl, as if for dear life. The girl had burst into tears, and was trying to run, which was proving a hard job with all the people surrounding her. Someone dressed in a uniform stepped down from a hovering helicopter, and grabbed her by her shoulders? She was struggling, black streams running down her face. The man who was holding onto her was shouting.

"Please! Don't take her!" The man was obviously struggling to keep hold of himself, trying to grab the girl, who's hands were flailing and her legs were trying to kick the guard. He saw him take out what looked like an tranquilizer, and injected the girl in her arm .

"James!" She cried, before quieting down and slumping into the guards arms. He dragged her up the ladder before disappearing into the helicopter. The man was being shushed by others, and Alex felt bile rising in his throat.

"Well," the 'host' of the entire thing began. "That's an example of what _not_ to do if you get chosen." He shook his head, as if disappointed .  
"Anyway, the next name is-" A name all too familiar appeared on the screen. "Alexander Hamilton."

_No._

He shook his head. This wasn't happening .

_No no no no no no no_

He backed up slightly , then turned and started pushing past people. He was vaguely aware of people grabbing and dragging him. Of someone pulling him upwards.

A sharp sting in his arm as they injected him.


	2. Chapter 2: Maria

The sun blared through the curtains of her room. Stretching her limbs and yawning, she sat up. Pain shot up her arm, and she noticed a trickle of dry blood from the last night.

James had hit her. Again.

He'd come home drunk, reeking of beer. She'd tried to get him to bed, but he'd ended up screaming and throwing an empty glass bottle at her. She'd ran and locked herself in her room, not coming out until the next morning.

Maria put her ear on her doorframe and listened. The house was silent. James must've still been asleep. She opened her door slowly, wincing when it creaked. She crept past the guest room, where James must have slept last night.

Making her way downstairs to the the kitchen, she stopped to look at one of the hung photos of her and James on their fifth date. It looked so magical and the atmosphere was full of love. How did that all change?

She passed the living room and noticed someone sprawled across the sofa. Looked like James had spent the night on the couch. How ironic.

His brown hair was tousled and his small mouth slightly open. His tan skin shined in the morning light. He looked so innocent. So beautiful. Definitely not like the angry monster that had yelled at her.

She walked to the kitchen, ignoring the ache in her chest , urging her to cuddle with him. She didn't want him to beat her. He always did that when he had a hangover.

She knew she should just leave him. But she couldn't . She didn't have enough money to live by herself. Didn't have a house. Didn't have a family who'd want her. James was all she had .

She took a tablecloth and let the tap run on it for a few seconds, before wiping the blood off her arm. Now that there was nothing covering it, the injury didn't seem to bad. Just a small cut that wasn't that deep.

She opened one of the drawers and took out a first aid kit. Emptying out the plasters , she picked a suitable one and put it over the cut. There. All's well that ends well.

Putting everything back and taking out a pan, she walked to the freezer and took out some frozen pancakes. She switched on the cooker and placed a small piece of butter and some oil on it. After a few minutes, she took the first pancake and placed it gently on the center of the pan. The sizzling seemed to calm her nerves down, and the sweet smell had her sighing gently. The normal things in life turned out to be the best for her.

She really should be grateful. James did love her, although he had a poor way of showing it. She had a place to sleep every night, and food to eat every morning. She was luckier than most.

She turned her attention back to the pancake, which seemed to be nearly done. It had turned golden brown and looked very tasty. She opened a cupboard and took out a jar of honey and a jar of Nutella.

No sooner had she put the second pancake to cook, she heard her name be called.

"Maria," James called from the living room. "Are you making breakfast?" She sighed.

"Yes , James," she replied, her voice coming out as hoarse. Probably from all the crying she had done last night.

There was a sound of stumbling, and she saw James emerge into the kitchen, rubbing his eye and yawning.

"Don't make a lot, " he muttered, smiling slightly. "We'll go out for ice cream or something later." He looked up and met her eyes, a happy grin on his face.

Then he saw the plaster on her arm, and his face fell.

"Oh, God," he whispered. "Did I do that?"

Maria stared back at the pan, unsure of what to say.

"It's not that bad, " she mumbled. She heard James walk up behind her. She turned and he took her hands, guilt burning in his eyes.

"No," he told her. "I promised to stop- and I keep getting drunk- I'm supposed to be looking after you. " he sighed. "I'm the worst boyfriend ever."

Maria gave him a small smile, resisting the urge to agree.

"It's fine." She whispered to him, and pressed her lips against his for a few seconds, before pulling away and putting her focus on the food.

"Look," James tried again. "We'll go to that restaurant you really like . Tonight. And you can have whatever you like."

She shook her head.  
"James," she muttered. 'It's the Choosing today."

James grabbed her hands again.

"None of us have ever been chosen before," he told her earnestly. "It's been ten years. We won't be chosen now."

"James , you don't know-"

"Maria!" He snapped, tightening his grip. She flinched, and his face softened. "Sorry," he said. "But I honestly don't want us thinking like that. That idiot and sorry excuse of a leader can take innocent people, but he can't take us away from each other."

Maria giggled to herself . "James, you really shouldn't be saying that." She glanced around in a paranoid way. "You don't know who'll be listening. They'll kill us if they hear you talking about him like that."

James ruffled her hair. "You know it's the truth. But I'll be more careful."

 

  
Maria was smiling when she finished breakfast. She set the plates out, and she and James sat on the sofa.

"This is really good, you know," he mumbled to her in between mouthfuls.

She smiled shyly. "Thank you."

  
She leaned against him when they finished eating, and they talked about pointless things for hours. She felt safe on his arms. She loved James .. when he wasn't drunk.

He checked his watch and his eyes widened.

"I hate to kill the mood, but we really have to go."

She glanced at the clock and realized there was only half an hour left till they had to be in the Square. They loved on the far side of New York, so they really had to get going .

James kissed her forehead gently. "You get changed while I call a cab, alright?"

"Ok," she whispered, and swung her legs off the sofa. She walked to her room and opened the closet, taking out a casual blouse and jeans. After changing and brushing her teeth, she ran her brush through her hair and left it like that.

It may have been pointless, but she felt the need to put some make up on. James always told her she looked pretty even without it, but she felt self conscious anyway.

She finished her look with red lipstick, then walked out to where James was waiting for her.

He pulled her up for a kiss.

"You look so beautiful," he whispered. "I can't wait to take you out tonight."

She giggled. "You have lipstick on your mouth."

James laughed and wiped it off on his sleeve. "I'll get much more on later."

  
They got into the cab, both sitting in the back seats. James made small talk with the driver while she checked her phone. She read a few online books she saved to pass the time. She wasn't aware she'd fallen asleep until James shakes her awake slowly.

"Come one," he whispered. She held his arm and they stumbled out of the car. James paid the driver quickly before finding a place in the midst of the crowd.

Maria saw a boy, who looked around 15, being dragged by a man .

She recognized abuse when she saw it. That boy was probably being beaten by the guy. 

She wished she could do something to help him, but they had two separate lives. She didn't even know his name.

There was suddenly silence and James wrapped his arm around her waist. The same host every year came flying into view by a ladder hanging on a helicopter. Microphone in his hands, he opened his mouth .

  
"Are you ready, ladies and gentlemen, for the choosing!" He yelled, and fake cheers of excitement sang from the crowd.

Her voice caught in her throat as she forced herself to join in. She saw the boy from earlier scowling at the host.

Obviously satisfied by the reaction, the man continued.  
"You know the drill, everyone!" He began. "If you see your name on the big screen, a helicopter will come to escort you. Take hold of the ladder and step inside without a fight."

Maria gulped and she shivered. James held her closer to him, and she nestled in his warmth.

"Any enquirers before we begin?"

No one said anything. After a small, painful silence, the mane beamed.

"That's great!" The man bellowed excitedly. "Without further or so, let's start!" A flash of white came from the screen on the tallest building there. A short video started.

A small, cartoon man was dancing on screen, singing about meat.  
She felt tears come to her eyes. This was horrible.  
It ended with him comically swallowing another human whole. Maria felt bile rise up her throat, and she forced it down.

Then a drumroll started .

"The first name is-" A large word appeared, and she felt her heart stop. "Maria Lewis."

 __  
Her breath caught in her throat as she blinked a few times.

She let out a cry of disbelief subconsciously, and James pushed her down. She hoped no one would recognize her, but when she heard the helicopter flying above her, she knew it was over.

She'd burst into tears and wrapped herself around James, who was shouting loudly.

She saw the boy from earlier staring at her, eyes wide. He looked like he wanted to help.

She pushed away from James and tried to run, but people held her back and pushed her towards the helicopter, not letting her escape.

She saw a man from the corner of her eye, who was probably one of the guards, step down from the helicopter and walking towards her. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled away desperately , tears streaming down her face.

_Why the hell did I wear mascara?_

The thought was comical and she let out a half laugh, half cry.  
She saw through the blur of her tears James running towards her.

"Please! Don't take her!" He seemed so broken. She wanted to comfort him, but the man had a tight grip around her. He reached his hand, which she tried to take, but gasped when a sharp needle was pushed into her arm.

She closed her eyes against her will.

"James!" She cried, then slumped against the man, her energy draining.

She was being pulled up to the helicopter, and she saw the boy from earlier blearily. He looked on the verge of a tantrum. She gave him a lopsided smile.

_James._

She felt herself being thrown into the food of the helicopter.

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dw I hate James Reynolds irl too


	3. Chapter 3: John

_Ten things._  
_Ten things_.

One last glance at his room before his freedom is torn away from him. One last time with his siblings. A chance to say goodbye to his happiness.

 _One thing._  
His bed. The way the sheets wrinkled in the corners, the colour fading from the amount of times it had been washed. The way his pillow had moulded to fit his head and provide comfort. His fluffy duvet that was missing clumps from the times he’d pick at the soft wool. The wooden structure of the bed frame that contrasted the rest of the colours. The pinched ends of the mattress from the times he’d lean his legs on it, slowly forcing it down.

_Two things_

The walls of his bedroom were once freshly painted . Now they were peeling at the corners and the green was fading away. He didn’t mind though. It reminded him of the years he’d spent in this one room, studying for exams, painting, playing video games with his brother. He remembered his mother tucking him and singing him a song till he fell sleep to her rich voice. Even now, it takes him hours to sleep without the sound of his mother singing him lullabies in her beautiful voice. God, how he missed her.

_Three things_

He rested his head on the window sill, gazing at the garden in front of him, looking as if sprinkled by snow. The carefully trimmed grass was a bluish colour, and was gathered together in clumps. The old swing set that had been there since he was five was at the corner of the garden, looking beautiful with the thin layer of snow covering the top. The flowers were frosty and sparkling in the weak sunlight

_Four things_

His siblings. He would lose his siblings for a long time. He wouldn’t be able to draw Henry and the cute way his cheeks dimpled when smiling, even though he insisted he was old enough to get a job or whatever. Which he was, since he was 16. But he’d always be that chubby baby he’d play with when he was younger.

He wouldn’t be able to play with James the board games he was obsessed with, or role play his favorite scenes from books. James got into a new fandom every month. He’d always come to him and ask for fan art, and how could he say no to him?

He wouldn’t be able to study with Martha, who was a year younger than him and striving to become a lawyer, which she could really do. He’d almost memorized he curriculum from the amount of times she’d blurt out random facts, or told them about the law that really had nothing to do with anything. She wasn’t bothered with dating, or working small jobs . She was racing to her goal, and she would pass the finish line with flying colours.

He wouldn’t be able to seek comfort from Mary, who would listen to his problems for forever, and hold him till he was done with tears. She was younger than all of them, but she bought him the warmth that left when his mother died.  
She was the first one he’d come out to. She wasn’t shocked, wasn’t disgusted, wasn’t confused. She just carried on loving him. And that was enough.  
When she’d told him she wanted to convert to Islam, he couldn’t process it. Mary was independent and could kick anyone’s ass. He didn’t take her as someone who’d join a religion that had so many rules.  
“You-you’d have to be homophobic , right?” He’d hesitantly asked her. She gave him an amused look and giggled.  
“What?”  
“Why’d you think that?”  
He shook his head. “Because, you’re not allowed to be-uh- gay and stuff.” He tailed off, hesitant. Mary through her arm around him.  
“I’m not allowed to rape either. Doesn’t mean I have to hate rapists.”  
“What the hell, Mary.”  
“Shit.” She cursed to herself. “Bad example.”  
“You don’t say.”  
They sat in silence for a few seconds.  
“I don’t support rapists, you know.” She piped up after the quiet lasted for too long.  
“I know.”  
She lay her hand on his shoulder, and her smile was gentle.  
“Jackie, I love you. And nothing’s going to change that.”

He felt tears slide down his cheek when he replayed that memory. He wiped it away quickly.

Don’t cry.  
Crying is for the weak.

Five things

Blue eyes like the ocean. Soft , brown hair that tickled his face every time she tucked him for bed. The smile. She’d smile through anything.

She smiled when they took her away.

The memories with his mother never faded. Her singing. Her laughter. Her warm hugs.  
She went away to soon .

She would have accepted him if she were still here. She would have convinced his father not to do this.

All he could is watch. Watch as he got sent away.

They say conversion therapy is fine. Normal.  
But he’d seen enough, read enough to know that it wasn’t normal.

It was torture.

_Six things_

Fuck. He couldn’t even things of another things to hold onto. No other happy memories, no pictures.  
Nothing seemed worth living for.

He though of his painting that had caused him all this chaos . It was probably lying splintered in some trash can .

If he could take back anything, it would be ever drawing that.

 _“Draw you and your future love together. What would you do with them?”_  
This caused giggles to erupt around the class, and John found himself rolling his eyes in disgust . The teacher payed no attention .  
“How would they look like? What colours would you use to show your emotions? Red for passion, pink for love?”  
Blue and Red. Fire and Ice.  
He couldn’t shake the thought out of his head.  
“Remember to mention the artists that inspired you in your sketch book. No copying or heavy tracing. References are allowed if there are obvious differences.”  
He felt his best friend, Martha, jiggling in the seat next to him.  
“I’m gonna draw myself with Ben Franklin. He’s so cute!” She whispered loudly to him. He sighed dramatically.  
“Really?”  
“Yes really!” She gave him a pointed look. “We’re going to get married and have lots of babies.”  
“That’s gross.” He looked back at his sketchbook uncertainly.  
“What are you going to draw?” She said quietly, her voice full of meaning.  
“I don’t know.”  
But even as the words left his mouth, his hand was already sketching to figures.  
Two guys.  
Blue and Red.  
Ice and Fire.  
Together.

  
A quiet know sounded at the door.  
“Come in.” He said, his voice cracking.

His siblings flooded into the room and suddenly, they were all around him.  
He couldn’t hear them.  
_Tell me it’s not true_  
They can’t do this  
It’s not right

_Please tell me you’re staying._

 

  
Crowds were surrounding in the New York square. The plane they’d just caught that would take them to where the Choosing was being hold had took off automatically, the pilot amongst the nervous crowd.  
He knew the drill. He’d seen them take his mother.

He’d memorized what his father had told him.  
_Choosing._  
Home.  
Pack.  
Therapy.  
See you when you’re straight.

Sitting on the higher grounds where everyone from Carolina grouped, he could see the locals below them. And amongst the crowds, he saw a young guy who seemed younger than 16. And he couldn’t help staring.

Q

He had long, reddish- brown hair, tied in a loose ponytail. He was short and his frame was small. The way he walked gave a lot of information. Bruised face. Limping.

He hated to think about what happened behind closed doors.

His father gripped his wrist.  
“Stop staring, they’ll guess.”

The man tugging onto him was obviously hurting him, judging by the sour look on the boy’s face. And as much as he wanted to help, his father would kill him.

  
And so he sat. The chatter of the crowd background music to his life.  
He sat through the beginning of the speech. Sat through all of it and didn’t react.

Until they said someone’s name.  
“Alexander Hamilton.”

And the person he’d been staring at earlier was up. Running. Stumbling. Trying to get away.  
He’d been chosen.  
And then he was up, trying to get down from his seating area and go to him.  
A total stranger.  
Then his father pulled him back, giving him a pointed look. And there was nothing he can do. 

He saw them drug this boy. Someone only slightly younger than him.

His heart twisted.

The host had turned back to the audience, a smile on his face.  
John scowled.  
_Bastard_.

“Now let’s move onto the third person. Please be aware that any more struggling could lead to punishment.”

The screen flickered and bold words entered the space.

John Laurens .

He furrowed his eyebrows. John Laurens.  
Was there someone else with that name?  
_John Laurens._  
I’m John Laurens.  
I’m in the place. I’m going to be taken away.

And a sense of calm flooded him.  
He was going to be taken away. Just like his mother.  
And he didn’t fucking care.

Someone was sobbing next to him, and he focused his attention on his siblings, slightly aware of eyes burning into his back.  
He could see the helicopter approaching from the corner of his eye .  
He smiles. He was ready.

“Henry.” He said. “Henry , I love you. You’re the most perfect thing alive. Do well in school. Make me proud.”  
He turned to his other brother.  
“James. You’re such a huge geek and I love you for it. All of you is amazing. Don’t change.”  
His sister.  
“Mary, you are what I’ve always wanted to be. Hardworking, ambition, perfect. You’re going to become a lawyer one day and grow really rich. And you’d never need any man to make you happy. I love you.”  
Martha.  
“Martha.” He chokes up slightly. “Don’t be scared to be who you really are. You’re you, and no one can change that.” He saw a small smile in her face, even though tears were rolling down her cheeks. He saw her pull the scarf around her hair up, covering herself more. “I love you.”  
He siblings squashed him into a hug, and whispers of I love you and see you on the other side came from them. He smiled, and faced his father.

He was watching him with a stunned expression, his mouth slightly open.  
He knew what he would say.  
I’m sorry I couldn’t be the son you wanted me to be.  
. But the words came out differently.  
“Father.” He said, his voice cold. “I’m sorry you couldn’t understand me. Maybe you’ll change one day.”

Then he turned round and rose his arms up, indicating for the pilot in the helicopter to send down the ladder.  
When it came down, he gripped it and it began to rise up. Footsteps sounded behind him, and he spotted Martha .  
_Martha._  
Martha Manning. His best friend.

“Jack!” She screeched. “You’re my best friend! I love you!  
He smiled .  
“As do I. Good luck with Ben.” He called.

And just before he entered the vehicle that would take him to his death, he faced everyone he’d ever loved.

_See you on the other side._


	4. Chapter 4: Eliza

_Run_.

  
And as she tripped and struggled through the forest, she could see the headlights of the helicopters spiraling around her. And , although it was still the afternoon, the woods were dark and the trees were barely visible. This could have worked to her advantage, if she could actually see a damn thing herself.

  
And it could have been the panic, or the fear, or her growing stitch, or the fact she couldn't see anything, but she fell.  
God , she _fell_.

She just couldn't get up. She was lying down on the wet leaves and branches in the woods, bleeding, and she couldn't get up, couldn't get up, and as she realized the horror of the situation , the panic settled in, and she couldn't breathe, and she heard something and tried to move but everything blurred , the world went black and she heard a gun shot.  
________

Eliza's day got off to a normal start.

She was the first up out of her other two sisters, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Her mind worked like an alarm clock. She had a silent schedule which caused her life run smoothly.

Now, she couldn't say the same about Peggy, who had managed to somehow fall on the ground while sleeping .  
Eliza sighed and bent over. Luckily, she didn't smell like alcohol, like most times.

"Peggy, wake up," she said softly, slowly shaking her. Peggy groaned and rolled over on the ground, arms sprawled underneath her.  
"Just five more minutes," she mumbled.  
More like five hours.

"Peggy." She repeated. "Get up, or I swear I'm not taking you out to another bar again."

She heard her sister snort. "I'm not even hungover." But Peggy did sit up and rub her eyes, looking slightly like a disheveled panda.

Eliza rolled her eyes and helped her sister up, shaking her head.  
"I still don't know how you got on the floor." She pointed out. Peggy gave her a grin.

"Let's just say I was having an interesting dream."

Peggy burst out laughing when Eliza gave her a disgusted look.  
This was definitely not how she wanted to start the morning.

__

Angelica was already awake when Eliza managed to make it out of Peggy's room alive. The curtains were closed, and the only dim light was coming from Angie's phone, which she was staring intently at.

Eliza sat gently on the side of her bed, looking at Angelica expectantly.

"John Jay moved to South Carolina." She announced dramatically. "And John André got expelled ."

Eliza frowned. "Well, great. I actually liked him."

Angelica threw her a wink. "I know. It was pretty obvious."

She just rolled her eyes at her sister's exaggerated kissing noises. "I hate you."

"You love me."

She stood up and made her way to the window, smirking when Angelica groaned at the sudden light hitting her face as she pulled back the curtains.

"You're right, I do love you." She beamed. "So get your lazy ass up."

Angelica clucked her tongue, laughing. "Profanity, Eliza. You'd be the last person I'd expect to swear."

"Whatever. Just get ready, you know we're visiting Mum and Dad today."

Angelica rolled her eyes. "Obviously. I could never forget." But she did roll over and get out of bed, which Eliza considered a huge success.

___

20 minutes later, Angelica was frying eggs , for once oddly quiet. Eliza set up the table , even though it was only the three of them having breakfast . She liked things to,be done in the right way. Being disorganized would ruin her whole unsaid schedule her life seemed to run on.

"Have you ever wondered what's going on in the rest of the world?" Angelica asked suddenly, putting the pan down and staring at Eliza intently.

She would usually take time thinking of answers for those types of questions, but under her sister's keen gaze, she struggled to think of an honest response.

"Well, I mean, it is weird, being cut off from everyone else." She stuttered. "But we haven't really been anywhere other than here-

"We've been to Italy, Eliza."

"Well, yeah. But we never traveled a lot, so.." She trailed off, hoping Angelica got what she meant.

"I know,"Angelica muttered. "But just think about it. There could be a war going on somewhere and we'd have no idea. It's like the US is the only place in the world. We could actually stop the messed up things our leader is doing if the other countries knew what the hell was going on."

"I heard North Korea tied to come in," Eliza said dryly.

Angelica snorted. "Yeah. And where do you think those people ended up when they managed to come in?" She didn't give Eliza a chance to reply. "That's right. Our leader's stomach." She shivered at the thought .

"Are we going to have breakfast, or spend the rest of the morning discussing how fucked up our country is?"

Peggy walked into the kitchen, flexing her arms. "You've both been standing there without actually doing anything . Ever heard of multi tasking?" She pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, hooking her arms behind her back.

Angelica narrowed her eyes at her. "Are you hungover?"

Peggy rolled her eyes, waving her hand at Angie dismissively. "No. I'm planning on getting wasted tonight instead of lying in bed thinking about how our parents probably found out that I skipped every Latin class this semester and somehow also found out about my secret boyfriend, all from telling the, that I had eggs for breakfast." She shrugged at Angelica's stare. "What?"

"What secret boyfriend?" Peggy's face paled. "And why have you been skipping class?"

  
"Shit," she muttered , then met Angelica's gaze.  
"Um, well, you know Stephen Van Rensselaer?" She stammered.  
Angelica blinked. "Stephen Van Rensselaer? As in our cousin, Stephen Van Rensselaer?"  
Peggy bit her lip, obviously wanting to say how many Stephen Van Rensselaer's do you know? but biting the question back because now was not the time. Instead, she nodded her head solemnly. Her face with confusion as she saw Angelica burst into a mischievous grin.

"Margarita Peggy Schuyler, I cannot believe you are doing it with our cousin."

Eliza burst out laughing as she watched a crimson red flood her sister's cheek.

"Shut up! It's not like that," she whined, embarrassment evident in her voice.

"Oh? Then what's it like then?"

"Well, he's sweet, and smart, and-uh-cute, I guess." She struggled, and Eliza felt pity stir up for her sister, but the amusement and basic comedy of the matter overtook the sympathy for Peggy's situation, and she found herself giggling alongside Angelica while Peggy blushed furiously in front of them.

"Yeah," Angelica choked up. "Have fun with your sweet and smart boyfriend ."

Peggy glared at her, and the tension in the room doubled with Peggy's murderous stare.

"Oh really?" She smiled a sweet and twisted smile, the one she pulled when she was about to make a really bad choice. "Tell me how Johnny is any better."

And with that, hell broke loose during breakfast, while Eliza sat down and calmly watched the shit go down while having a very tasty egg sandwich and texting her parents about how excited they were to see them later.

____

Eliza glared at her reflection in the mirror , staring at the pimple on the side of her forehead that had appeared out of nowhere. Ugh.

"Hey Angie?" She called, surveying the possible ways she could use to get rid of the stupid zit, before settling onto the most suitable solution.

Angelica poked her head through the bedroom door. "Mhm?"

"Can I borrow your concealer?" She asked. The eldest of the three raised an eyebrow.

"You know we have totally different skin tones, right?"

"Please? Mine's almost ran out, and I just need to add a bit of yours to it so there's enough to put on." She pleaded. Angie rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. Just don't blame me if you have a brown splat on your face."

Eliza beamed happily. "Thanks, sis. You're the best."

Angelica scoffed. "You can't even see that pimple. But yeah, I know I'm the best."

Eliza just rolled her eyes as Angelica disappeared round, then found herself smiling as she listened to her two sisters, who she lived more than anything in her life, bickering about small pointless things.

She really was the luckiest girl in the world.

"Eliza!" Peggy yelled. "Should I wear the red dress or the yellow dress?"

"Yellow," she answered immediately. "The red one makes you look like you're going to go and bang on everyone's house and seduce them."

There was a beat's silence, then "how'd you find out my secret?!"

Eliza shook her head, still smiling.

___

"Peggy, we are not listening to one direction again."  
"Why not?"  
"Because my head's gonna freaking explode if we do."  
"Hey!"

"Why don't I just pick the music,"she said calmly to her two sisters, who looked ready to go to war. They both mumbled a quiet 'sure' while glaring at each other. She plugged the cable into her phone while Angelica started the engine. What she didn't know was that the car automatically started playing what Eliza was last listening to.

Who's a loner  
So he must be a stoner

"No!" Peggy gasps.

Rides a PT Cruiser  
God, he's such a loser

Angelica swung her hand and pulled the phone of the cord, then glared at the road ahead of her. "No. You don't get to do that to my heart."

Eliza rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. "Whatever. We'll just go without the music then."

And so they did.

They rode in a comfortable silence that was broken every now and then by Peggy, complaining about the heater. They reached their parents' house a few minutes later.

After checking her makeup and giving herself a quick run through all she had done these past few months, she stepped outside the car. Eliza took deep breaths of the cool air and sighed. True, it was freezing cold and she was wearing a short dress with a thin cardigan. But she was here. With her family. And she was happy.

Trying to stop herself from shivering in the chilly weather, she waited for her sister's to come out of the car. Angelica strode ahead while Peggy complained about the cold, as expected.

Grabbing her younger sister's hand, she pulled Peggy towards her and followed Angelica, who was already at the door, knocking. She pulled her cardigan closer to her chest to block out the cold air and provide as much heat as she possibly could. She could hear Peggy's teeth chattering.

The three sister stood at the door, waiting for an answer to come. She could here shouting inside, probably coming from one of her siblings. There was a click and the door burst open, revealing her parents , Phillip and Catherine Schuyler.

Her Mum studied the three of them, as if scarcely believing that they were there. Then she shook her head and threw her arms around them, pulling them in for a group hug.

"Oh, I missed you all so much!" She cried, pulling them tighter. She giggled and leaned into her mother's embrace, enjoying the warmth that came with the hug.

"I missed you too, Mum," Angelica laughed . They stayed put together for a few more seconds before her mother let go.

"I'm sorry! I'm keeping you outside and you must be freezing. Do come in!"

Eliza felt her heart warm at her mother's posh accent, reminding her that this was her mother.

"Dad!" Peggy screamed, pushing past her and Angelica, and launching herself on her father before he could protest. He had always been uncomfortable by physical contact, but not with Peggy. She was obviously his favorite. Even though that may spark jealousy in the hearts of some, she couldn't bring herself to envy her sister, when there was little to no reasons for her to. Her father had never been unkind to them in unnecessary times, and had never been afraid to put Peggy in her place.

They waited for Peggy to stop strangling their father, then took their turns for hugs. She felt her father close his arms around her, and the familiar smell of the house made her feel like home.

After a few minutes of emotional reunions, her little siblings came running downstairs.

The boys came first. Rensselaer, the youngest, wrapped his arms around Peggy's waist, and immediately started telling her about his insect collection. Phillip went over to Angelica and started grilling her about some science, nerdy thing. John, the oldest of the boys, made his way to her.

“Hey,” He said nonchalantly. She raised her eyebrows.

“Hey.”

“Peggy’s dating Stephen, isn’t she?”

“Yup.” She didn’t bother to ask him how he knew. She just learnt over the years that John had his ways. “And she’ll kill you if you tell Mum and Dad.”

“I plan on blackmailing her with it.” He answered calmly.

Eliza felt a smile creep on her face. “How’s school?”

John made a face. “Awful. Especially since I have no one to help me with homework now.”

She rolled her eyes. “It was more of me doing your homework, and you watching me do it.”

He smiled. “I still miss you.”

“I miss you too. But you know I had to move out.”

“You didn’t have to. There were two options, and you didn’t choose us.”

“John,” she sighed. “The house is getting cramped, and it’s hard for Dad to provide for all of us.”

He stared at her for a beat before looking away. “Yeah , okay.”

She grabbed his upper arm. “Come one John. I’m here now, aren’t I? Let’s make the most of it.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Yeah, sure. As long as no one brings up politics at the table.”

“That’s a dead meme.”

“It was never a meme, Eliza.”

“Whatever.”

“Besides, no one has used memes since 2020. You are so old school.”

“Shut up or I’ll throw you down a cliff.”

“Love you too, sis.”

  
______

When they’d all greeted each other and the girls came downstairs, her mother ushered them all to the kitchen , were piles of plates were full of different foods that made her mouth water. Even if she’d had breakfast an hour ago, and even though it was 9:00 am, she couldn’t wait to just sit down and eat.

Of course, contrary to what John had hoped, there were no politics on the table. It wasn’t as if they had anything to discuss that couldn’t get them killed if one of the leader’s guards just happened to be walking around.

The food was delicious, as she’d expected. Her mother really outdid herself, giving them seconds and thirds until she could eat no more. It was better thanksgiving, where her mother would cook enough for the entire city.

After they spent almost an hour eating, her father headed them into the living room and asked about their lives. She felt quite comfortable answering all the questions truthfully. She was doing well at her last year of high school, getting straight A’s in all her subjects but business , which she’d a secured a B on. She was getting enough food every night and was happy. Oh, and single.

Angelica looked less than comfortable when her parents asked about her John Church, and why he hadn’t joined them this year. She gave them an excuse through gritted teeth, that he had been too busy in his final year at uni. But she’d calmed down prosperously when they’d moved on to question her majors, and how she was doing in college.

Peggy laughed her way through it all, joking about her school life and dodging everyone’s curiosity on why she was still single. Eliza glanced to her side and saw John smirking.  
She leaned over.

“When are you planning on telling her then?” She whispered. He grinned.

“After we go to the Choosing. I’m planning on getting a new phone.”

And everyone was happy. They were lucky, lucky people.

___

  
The mood decreased drastically when it became 11:30. They lived on the far side of New York, so it took a pretty long drive to get to the square. Since her family was quite important, they got seated in a section near the woods, so that meant she could enjoy the beauty of the forest while people got chosen for their deaths. Ha. Yeah right.

Another advantage of her family being ‘upper’ is that their names were less likely to be chosen. Although her heart always pangs when she thought of the unlucky people who had their families torn apart because of the awful leader, she couldn’t help but feel the flutter of relief in her stomach whenever the Choosing had ended, and her family was safe and sound.

The car was silent, as no one felt the urge to talk at this time. Angelica left her car at their parents house, since they were planning to go back anyway. Besides, there weren’t certain places to park. You’d just have to find a space to put your vehicle in then go to your designated areas. The less cars there , the better.

As they made their way to their usual seats, Eliza saw a guy being dragged harshly by the arm by some older man, who she assumed was his father. He had soft, brown hair that was tied in a ponytail. His skin was pale, ignoring the pale blush on his cheeks that probably came from the cold, which made the bruise near his mouth more noticeable. She wasn’t that close, but she could make out violet blue eyes on his face that seemed to sparkle , standing out in the white surrounding it. He was cute , true, but she sensed something was wrong. He looked slightly in pain.

She made a promise to herself to try and talk to him when the whole nightmare was over.

She felt Angelica pull her arm gently, reminding her silently that she was standing too long. She followed her family to the seats and sat down, surveying the scene in front of her. Since her area was slightly higher than the people who weren’t given certain places to stay, she had a view of the entirety of the people below her. People who didn’t really hold an important place in the government weren’t given any seats, and were expected to just crowd at the New York Square. Pity stirred in her chest, making her remember, yet again, how lucky she was.

She caught sight of the boy again when the whole thing started. Although he was surrounded by a lot of people, she could see that he had a certain look on his face. Anger? Discomfort? Probably both, seeing as this whole thing would probably chill someone straight to the bones.

She was so absorbed in working this person out that she didn’t hear the first announcement, and didn’t even know something was going on until she heard commotion below.  
A girl, her name she missed, was struggling against the crowd, breaking down and obviously trying to escape. She was wearing a red dress, similar to the one Peggy wanted to wear earlier. She tore her gaze away from the scene and took both her sister’s hands, squeezing them gently, using them as a reminder of how many years she’d survived without any of them being picked.

She sighed then turned her attention to the host speaking, who seemed to be disapproving of the girl.

The girl. She was gone. Probably got taken. She couldn’t have hoped to escape.

The host proceeded to read out the next name.  
“Alexander Hamilton.”

The name ringed in her head. Another person who’d have their life taken away. And judging by the noise below, he too was trying to get away.

Eliza glanced down and saw a cute boy with brown-red hair and pale skin fighting against the crowd. The boy she had been staring at. A part of her willed him to be able to break free from the grabbing hands and get away, but she knew it’d be impossible. And her fears came correct when a man in a suit grabbed him and seemed to be able to get him to sleep. Probably an injection of some sort.

She felt a small feeling of grief for the guy she never knew. Now she’d never get to know him.

She hadn’t even been paying attention when the third name was called out.

“John Laurens.”

Her father had spoken of the Laurens family once or twice. They were in a similar political party and had met once.

She twisted her head round and a boy, slightly older than her, with curly golden hair and freckles that spread across his face, stood in the middle of people struggling to get to him, but he didn’t seem to be trying to escape. And the whole scene was heart breaking.

She forced herself to look away, and put her face in her hands as she waited for the voices to calm down, for the next name to be called.

“Elizabeth Schuyler.”

And her stomach dropped .

“No,” she heard Angelica whisper.

No. This couldn’t be right. She had never been chosen, never even consider it likely that she’d be chosen. There must have been a mistake of some kind. _MistakemistakemistakemistakeMistakemistakemistakemistakeMistakemistakemistakemistakeMistakemistakemistakemistakeMistakemistakemistakemistakeMistakemistakemistakemistakeMistakemistakemistakemistakeMistakemistakemistakemistake_

“Oh God, Eliza,” Peggy breathed, her tone horrified . She felt herself crumble. She couldn’t go. She had her whole life ahead of her. She was going to be a doctor and publish a novel. She was going to change the world- or how she knew it. She-she..

She stood up.

“I love you,” she whispered. Then she turned to face the woods and ran.

  
_Run, Run,Run,Run,Run,Run._

  
And so she tripped and felt her hope drain away. She could see the headlights of the helicopters spiraling around her. They would find her. She struggled and tried to get out her phone, text her family, tell them she loved them. She pressed send. Then she fell.

She just couldn't get up. She was lying down on the wet leaves and branches in the woods, bleeding, and she couldn't get up, couldn't get up, and as she realized the horror of the situation , the panic settled in, and she couldn't breathe, and she heard something and tried to move but everything blurred , she heard a gunshot. But she didn’t feel pain. She felt cold and tired and so damn upset.

And before the world went back. Before she felt hands grip around her waist and host her up to her doom, she saw her phone screen. And that was the worst thing of all that had happened.

_Message not sent._


	5. Chapter 5: Aaron

The scent of coffee drifted across the cafe as Aaron took a seat next to Theo. He placed his cappuccino and his books on the table.

 

“Seriously, Aaron?” She gave him a pointed look. “We’re here to hang out, not have a study session.”

 

He sighed. “I know, but exams are in a few weeks, and-“

 

“Stop.” Theo rolled her eyes dramatically and took a sip from Aaron’s coffee. “You already get A’s in all your classes. One morning isn’t going to change anything.”

 

Before he could protest, she pulled out her phone. “Check out this guy.” She bought the phone to his face. “He’s hot as hell, right?”

 

He nodded. “Definitely.” He glanced at her neck, which was covered in bruises. “Rough night?”

 

She smirked. “You know it.” She paused. “Or maybe you don’t, since you’re still a virgin.”

 

Aaron blushed and elbowed her. “Not true.”

 

Theo laughed and threw her arm around him. “Please. The closest thing you’ve had to sex is when I caught you dry humping your pillow _in your sleep_.”

 

Aaron made an indecipherable noise and flushed. “Liar. You are a big liar, Theodosia.”

 

“You were probably thinking about that cute girl in your math class-“

 

“Theo!”

 

“-or that boy next door. You wouldn’t shut up about him.”

 

Aaron stretched across the chair. “Please. I don’t even know his name.”

 

“Didn’t stop you from telling me all about his ‘ocean blue eyes’, and his “perfect lips”-“

 

“Shut up!” At that moment, Aaron was bright red and was glaring at Theo, while she just laughed at his expression.

 

After a minute, she stood up. “Let’s go back to my place.” Aaron nodded and gathered up his things, putting his empty cup in the bin on his way out.

 

They walked in a comfortable silence for a while, until Theo coughed.

 

“Have you, um, said anything about your neighbor yet?” She asked quietly. Aaron sighed .

 

“Not yet.”

 

“What are you waiting for then?” She exclaimed. “That poor guy could be getting beaten for all we know, and-“

 

“You were just talking about his eyes, Theodosia.”

 

“I was joking.” She huffed. “But seriously, would it kill you to take your concerns to the police, or at least your landlord?”

 

Aaron scoffed. “My landlord is some drug addict who sometimes forgets to make us pay for rent. I don’t think he’ll care,” he sighed. “And as for the police, well, I don’t have enough proof.”

 

“The fact that you hear his screams, Aaron, should be proof enough.”

 

“Look,” he said. “I don’t want to risk everything getting involved in an issue which doesn’t concern me.”

 

“Very caring, aren’t you?” She muttered.

 

“I’ll do something eventually. But for now, I’m staying out of it. Besides, his foster father doesn’t look like someone I want to mess with.”

 

Theo rolled her eyes. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

 

Aaron frowned, but said nothing. He knew she was right, she always was. But he couldn’t risk everything to help someone he barely knew. He had a future, and any involvement with the police or such could ruin his chances at a good job.

 

The silence stretched on as they walked, and he awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets.

 

“Sorry,” she said suddenly, and he looked up at her in surprise. “I-I shouldn’t have pushed you.” She took a breath. “I just don’t want you to have it in your conscious if something happens.”

 

Aaron smiled sadly at her. “I know, and I’m sorry for not doing anything yet. But I really don’t want to mess up anything right now.”

 

“I get it. I shouldn’t have bought it up in the first place.” She shrugged.  “Just- let’s talk about something else, ok?”

 

He nodded. “How’s your mother?” He asked, their footsteps falling into a steady pattern as they approached Theo’s apartment.

 

“So formal, Burr.” She smiled. “She’s good. She got a job in Philly. A studio that has a high pay. She’s rented a house and she’s even met someone, I think.”

 

Aaron felt his heart warm as she talked animatedly about her mother. He knew they’d been through difficult times concerning money, but he was happy they were back on track. He loved Theo’s mother. She was sweet and great at baking. And though he’d never admit it, she taught him how to knit. She was like the parent he never has.

 

He met Theo a few years back in freshman year. She was a bright student who talked passionately. She had an aura that drew people to her, and he was glad they were made lab partners so he could make an attempt to talk to her.

 

He’d had a small crush on her when they were beginning to be friends, but it was quickly replaced with a close bond that was entirely platonic. She was the first he’d came out as bi to, and she fully accepted him, saying that she now had someone to check out guys with.

 

He couldn’t imagine losing her.

 

“Earth to Aaron. You there?” She yelled in his face, making him jump in surprise.

 

“Sorry- I was just thinking about stuff.” He muttered apologetically.

 

“No shit. Anyway, we’re here.” She pushed her key into the the hole, and opened the door.

 

The familiar scent of her apartment and the usual clutter on her desk made him feel at home. They collapsed on the sofa and Theo picked the remote up and opened the tv. They spent the next hour watching a comedy when Theo jumped up suddenly.

 

“Fuck!” She yelled. “Get up!” She pushed him off the couch then ran into her room, Aaron following her hesitantly.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked in confusion. She gave him a look.

 

“Aaron, I love you but you’re so forgetful sometimes.” She huffed and took out her brush, pulling it through her thick hair before tying it into a messy bun then going to get her trainers. “It’s the choosing today. We have to be there at 12 or some shit is going to happen.”

 

He let out a breath and put on his own shoes, following Theo as she locked the door and walked outside.

 

The sun boiled down on them as they walked. Theo was humming under her breath and looking around, as many other people left their houses and started heading to the same place.

 

The choosing had been happening for as long as Aaron was alive, and he knew not a life without it. Every year, like clockwork, America united in New York. It sounded impossible, since it was such a small place for so many people, and how would they even get everyone there. The leader took care of that.

 

He had guards in every state, every city, every area. At least 100. They had an extremely high pay and the promise that them and their loved ones won’t be chosen. So it wasn’t surprising when so many people went for the job.

 

And so when the choosing came around, the guards had lists of names of the people who lived in each area, and came knocking by each house. They’d have an extra key so they could walk in and inspect the place, making sure no one was home. There was nowhere to hide.

 

It was the same for all the other people who didn’t live in New York, except they were required to take a plane or a bus that took them there. Anyone who missed it would be executed.

 

Once they got chosen, they had to spend a few months somewhere (no one knew) and then they’d be put in a larger, burning room, where they’d slowly die of heat. It was like a giant oven.

 

It took around 6 months for this whole process, and another 6 months to finish eating them all. Which is why every year, they had the choosing, so the leader could be satisfied, and not decide to murder everyone, which he’d threatened to a few times.

 

It was not expected, apparently, when he first started doing it. He’d been a great ruler so far, making the economy rise to the top, pulling people out of poverty and offering jobs for everyone. They provided free healthcare, banned guns and got back kinder eggs, and America started to return to its shiny self.

 

That’s what everyone thought, anyway.

  


When he got to the square, it didn’t surprise him to see the faces of people he recognized. There was his professor, this old lady who owns the corner store, a lot of kids from his school, and -

 

“Theo!” He whispered loudly. She turned round and blinked.

 

“What is it?”

 

Trying not to make it obvious, he beckoned his head towards another familiar person. His neighbour.

 

“That’s the guy.” He said.

 

The guy had long, brown hair and wide, bright, blue eyes. He was extremely skinny and seemed to be in pain. He was pale and his mouth was slightly open-

 

“Aaron.” Theo whispered gently. “You see his bruise right? You know this is all the confirmation we need?”

 

He shuddered as he eyes the purplish mark on his cheek. Guilt churned in his stomach as he realized that if he’d spoken earlier, he could have stopped it. Well, he was going to do something. Even if all he did was make an anonymous complaint about the abuse to the police, it would be enough to get them investigating it.

 

“Ok,” he sighed. “After this crap is over, I’ll file a report about abuse to the police station. It should have them looking at his home life.”

 

Theo nodded and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “I’m proud of you,” she whispered, and that bought a smile to his face.

 

After a while, it started. The same person who came every year flew in the sky, a microphone in his hand, and he introduced the choosing, even though most people had it memorized by then. He braced himself as everyone got ready to see the first name. Theo squeezed him as he stiffened.

 

It wasn’t him. Thank God. But it was someone called Maria, and he could see her from the corner of his eye, and he could hear her loudly. She was crying, along with a man who he assumed was her boyfriend. They were hanging onto eachother for dear life, but he knew there was no chance for them. There was already someone coming for her.

 

After she was taken into the helicopter, the same person called out another name.

 

_Alexander Hamilton._

 

It didn’t ring a bell, until he felt someone push into him, and he saw the guy.

 

He now had a name.

 

Fuck.

 

He was chosen, and he didn’t have a chance to help him at all.

 

Theo grabbed his hand and squeezed it when he started shivering.

 

“It’ll be ok.” She whispered.

 

He didn’t see them taking him away, but he heard it. And it hurt.

  


He zoned out for the next two names, even though he still heard the cries and the rushing sound of the helicopters hovering above, ready to take the next person. He felt helpless to everything. He wanted nothing more than to help them, help them escape, help them stay with their families. But there was nothing he could-

 

_Aaron Burr._

 

He froze at the sound of his name.

 

No, God, this couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t meant to go. He was meant to stay here and go to college and get a diploma. He was meant to get a job and get married and have lots of kids. He was meant to help people. He was meant to help _Alexander-_

 

Then it didn’t matter anymore. The boy was gone, and he couldn’t do anything to help him. Maybe he deserved this? For not speaking out when he guessed what was happening?

 

No. No one deserved death. But he was going to be able to at least apologize to Alexander for not helping him. He had a chance to make it right.

 

He didn’t notice Theo was sobbing silently, her hand covering her mouth and her eyes blown wide with tears streaming down. He pulled her to him and wrapped her in a tight hug.

 

“I’ll get you out, I promise. I won’t let you die there.” She whispered sadly in his ear.

 

“Then this won't be the last we meet, Theodosia.” He smiled. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Aaron Burr.”

 

And then they pulled away, because he had to go. He had to go. He had to go.

 

They dragged him up into the helicopter .

 

He had to go.

 

He gave one more smile to Theo before he disappeared.

 

_Goodbye_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not dead i swear
> 
> Sorreh guys I've just been failing at school and I've sorta been diagnosed with ADHD which is just great
> 
> Plus, theres been some drama going on in my old school. This guy, was my fruend, cheated on one of my best friends then tried to get with me, and lied and blackmailed me when i told her that he cheated. Not only that, but someone outed me out and forced me to come out as bi to my school, which i tried to play off as a joke because I'm just not ready, but idk how many people believed it.
> 
> Anywayy, this isn't discontinued!  
> Im gonna write up till 10 chapters like this for each person who got chosen, then it’s not gonna be in a certain order of pov’s
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr : @lexthymia
> 
> Love y’all


	6. Chapter 6: George

People say you never realize what you have until you lose it.  
For King, this could apply to a lot of things.  
His mum, who he missed so much. He missed her encouragement, her cooking, her smile and her wicked art.  
He missed his older brother, Charles, who traveled so much but still found time to come back every month and bring him gifts, varying from perfume to small animals. He missed his music, his lame jokes (he had felt a need to be the dad he never had, which meant he suffered through a lot of terrible jokes with awful punchlines), his habit to wake them up early to “catch the birds before they go”.  
He missed his mother fussing over him, lecturing Charles about his absurd hairstyles and piercings, with Charlie just giving her a grin and telling her he was living through his looks. He missed their house, which he spent countless times wandering in. He didn’t think he ever looked in every single room.  
  
He missed his school, with its bright, positive posters hanging on the notice boards and the canteen food which didn’t taste all that bad. He missed the morning assemblies he attended and the forced sing-a-long everyone had to endure. He missed the weight of his backpack and the familiar scent of apple pie and chocolate fudge in that one biology teacher’s classroom. He missed the blue corridors and wooden benches.  
  
He missed the teachers, who were supportive but strict, who were funny but serious, who bothered to help their students. Of course, there was that one teacher who oddly reminded his of Dolores Umbridge, but he even missed her.  
  
He missed his friends, who were the best he could ever wish for. They were all amazing and kind and dorky and so, so sweet. He missed their endless teasing and their weekly sleepovers where they caught up on life. He missed them.  
  
He missed England as a whole, with its lush, green greens and the trees and birds and roads and buildings and theme parks and houses and colours and all of it.  
  
America was nothing compared to his home.  
  
A few years ago, he moved to America, which was his dream. He’d stay for a few years, then come back to study at Oxford. He was so excited, for he loved the UK, but he’d never been elsewhere, and Charles was so lucky to be able to explore the other worlds. That’s what he told his mum.  
He doesn’t know what went wrong, but the moment he landed in America, things seemed odd. Tension was obviously thick, but he didn’t know why.  
He’d opened his phone, ready to call his mum who he’d promised, while giving her a hasty hug, to phone as soon as he landed. But it wouldn’t go through.  
  
That was only the beginning of the problems, he later discovered.  
The Choosing, being cut off from the rest of the world, never speaking to his family again. That all came as a blur.  
  
He hadn’t given up though.  
He spent months researching, looking, asking until he thought he could crack it.  
He had no time to waste.  
  
22 February 2122  
King was sat at his desk for what seemed like days, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t slept in God knowns how long, but that was ok. He felt giddy and excited and nervous, but all that would be over soon. He could exhale soon, because he was finally going to do it.  
He was finally going to break the quiet.  
That was what they called the system keeping everyone isolated from other countries. ‘Quiet.’  
Well, the quiet was about to get very bloody loud.  
His fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, his mind knowing exactly what to press, the exact number etched into his mind-  
  
“George?” A voice said. King jumped in his seat, coming back briefly to the reality hed spent so little in the past few weeks. He looked to the side and saw Sam, who was standing somewhat awkwardly, holding his phone flashlight rather than turning on the main light.  
“Hi, Sam.” He murmered quickly, then turned back to the computer screen. He was so close-  
“Why are you still up? Its past 3 am.”  
King tried not to express his annoyance in being interrupted yet again, and answered without looking, “I jus have some stuff I need to finish. I’ll go to sleep soon.” If you just let me finish.  
There was a brief silence, and he thought that maybe his boyfriend had finally left, but once he started typing, a hand rested on his shoulder and he made an annoyed sound.

“What now?” He asked, irritated.

“Finish tomorrow. You haven’t slept properly in a while, and you look awful.” Sam spoke softly but firmly, but all King did was shrug him off.

“I just need to finish this last thing, mate.” He said, and went back to typing. Same seemed to have given up and removed his hand.

“Right, um, goodnight then.”

“Night.”

638#1asm!("outb %al, %dx" ::  
"{dx}"(port), "{al}"(value) ::  
"volatile");  
Enter

King waited in anticipation, excitement bubbling from him, almost shaking in his seat.

The loading screen almost drove him crazy and he sat, his face so close to the screen he could see the small coloured specks.

Error

The smile slipped off his face and he blinked in confusion.

System error

No, no, no, this wasn’t meant to happen.  
Unable to reconnect

God, no.

ERROR  
ERROR  
RED WARNING

This wasn’t happening.

Message ::: Never Try This Again

Then the screen went black, and King’s mind went blank.  
It didn’t seem real. Not after all the efforts he has made the past months, all the sleepless nights he went, those extra computer classes he took, how long it took him to get that far, no, it was meant to work.

He remembered the man he had told drunkenly what he was planning to do, and how that man gave him his number so he could tell him when he was done. He couldn’t remember his name, but he was French and desperate to reconnect with his family. And now he let him down.

He let himself down.

In a fit of anger, he picked up the computer and launched it across the room, watching it shatter and scratch the wall with a burning satisfaction. The sound of glass breaking was like music to his ears, but the pleasure didn’t last long and grief was quickly creeping up his chest, and his eyes grew wet.

King walked to a cupboard and took out a pair of dark trainers and pulled them on quickly, before staring at the broken computer, shivering. He then unlocked the door.

“I-what the hell? George?” Sam had appeared in the living room again, looking confused and a little scared. “What happened?” He took a glance at the half open door. “Where are you going?”

King looked at him.

“Out.”

And he slammed the door.

  
He doesn’t know how long he spent just waking around empty alleyways, kicking small stones and feeling depressed. After a while, he stopped near a small pub and lit up a cigarette that he had a stash of in his trousers pocket. Sam had wanted him to stop for ages, but what could he say? An addiction was an addiction and it felt good anyway.

He inhaled, and the warm, familiar feeling engulfed his chest and left him feeling a little calmer, and got rid of some of the cold that had him shivering. He carried on the usual ritual of the constant small drags until he pressed his fingers against the cig, putting out the small fire, and threw it on the floor next to him.  
“Those will kill you before you’re 25,” a voice said from next to him. King looked to his side and a 17 year old looking lad with dark, unruly hair and bright green eyes. He narrowed his eyes at the stranger.

“Oh yeah?” He said, taking out another cigarette just for spite. “Good thing I’m already dead inside.” He took out his lighter again and lit it up, putting it in his mouth and letting it hang limply. “Anyway, what’s it to you?”

The stranger shrugged. “It isn’t. Just trying to make conversation.”

King snorted. “How’d you know I’m not 25 already?”

The stranger shrugged again. “Just assumed. Was my assumption correct?”

“I’m 21, so I guess you are.”

There was a small, awkward silence in which King put out his cigarette and tossed it on the floor.

“You alright, mate?” The stranger asked, breaking the silence.

He looked at him curiously. “You British?” King said, avoiding the question.

“Yeah. Lived in London most of my life, and moved here when I turned 18.” He paused. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“King.” He answered hesitantly. “And I’m fine, thanks.”

“Alright then, well.” Harry handed him a piece of paper. “This is my number, if you ever need to talk.”

“I’m seeing someone,” he said automatically.

“As am I,” stranger said. “But there’s no harm in talking.”

As he started walking away, King called back, “How did you know I wasn’t fine?”

The stranger gave him a sad smile. “Because your expression is one I see every time I look in the mirror.”

  
By the time he had gotten back to his house, the sun had come out, his knuckles were bleeding and he wasn’t feeling any better. Seeing Sam, sitting there rigid and jumping when he saw him didn’t make his guilty conscience feel any better.

“Where have you been?” He snapped. “I’ve been worried sick. You go out in the middle of the night to God knows where after smashing the computer, and- is your hand bleeding? Your hand is bleeding! Don’t tell me you were in a fight because I swear to-“

“I wasn’t in a fight.” He cut off, walking and collapsing on the sofa. “I just punched a wall.”  
Sam shook his head. “Idiot. You’re a complete idiot! You expect me to be fine with you going out, smoking and drinking and doing whatever you want, but this isn’t a one sided relationship, King! Sometimes I ask myself why I’m still in it-“ he stopped, and looked guilty for a second.

King felt a pang in his heart at these words and looked down.

Sam sat next to him and bought King’s head to his lap, stroking his hair as if he was a puppy.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just tired of seeing you like this. You’re getting yourself closer to your death and I can’t live without you.”

“It’s the pick day thing today,” he said quietly, avoiding having to answer him.

Sam ignored him. “And I know know you really wanted to see your family again, or at least talk to them-“

“It didn’t work.” He said. “I don’t know what I did wrong, but it wasn’t meant to happen like this. I, well, if I could do anything right now, I’d go back in time and never come here-“

“And not meet me?”

The question was simple, really, and in an “I don’t care”sort of tone, but King felt the meaning of it and his heart curled.

“Of course not.” He paused. “The best day in my life was when I met you.”

“Better than when you came to America?”

“Definitely.”

  
The day went too quickly for his own liking. After breakfast, he was forced (by Sam) to sleep, and he didn’t even know how tired he was until his head hit the pillow, and by the time he woke up, there was barely any time to eat, as the choosing began really soon. He ate a quick croissant then washed his face, the water calm and cool, then put on a pair of shoes, and he and Sam rushed to the bus stop, where they’d take a bus to New York.

It was crowded, naturally, and people were squished together. Somehow, in the midst of it all, his face ended up near Sam’s crotch, which he poked and murmured, “hot”, in his ear, and somehow made him feel more flustered than Sam.

By the time they got off the bus, he was feeling a lot better. Sure, he was still upset about The great failure, but he felt healthy.

“Sorry- excuse moi- King?” A voice said as he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw the French man who had told him that he missed his family just as much, and wanted to contact them with his computer after King told him his plan.

“Oh, hi, um, Lafette, right?” He said hesitantly, hoping the conversation wouldn’t lead to where he thought it would.

“Lafayette.” He corrected. “I know you are probably in a hurry, as am I, but I really just wanted to know how the,” he lowered his voice. “thing went.”

He sighed sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“It didn’t work?”

“No.”

And he turned and tailed after Sam into their seats, because he didn’t want that conversation.

Sam reached his hand and took his, squeezing it gently.

“What happened?”

“Well,” he said. “That bloke was the person who also wanted to see his family, in France, and we talked about my idea, and he wanted to know how it went.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sam reassured him, and all he could do was nod.

He zoned out for it, only catching a few names, and he pitied the chosen ones and their families.

Thank god he wasn’t going to be picked, because what were the odds of that-

“George King Frederick.”

A silence followed his words and his mind was blank, empty. He didn’t register the shocked “no!” That came from beside him, or the pitiful looks people shot him. He didn’t notice Lafayette staring sadly, or Sam whispering that he loved him.

He felt the arms pulling him up, but he didn’t really feel like he was going.

Something told him he’d be back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Instagram: @shahdroe  
> Tumblr: @shahdroe  
> Snapchat: @shahdroe
> 
> I’d really appreciate a follow!


End file.
